


He's Got Spunk

by MrsHamill



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Crack, First Time, M/M, Mission Fic, Original Character(s), Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-15
Updated: 2003-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:44:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6043726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yep, he sure do!</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Got Spunk

**Author's Note:**

> Blame it on the Bird. And you can bless or blame the Bunny (as in Hiper) for helping me to figure out what happened and where, exactly. It was, though, just a one-joke fic until Emu demanded more description and I read it at the Connexions Bedtime Story party and the lovely ladies there (I'm afraid I was too exhausted to remember who said what, I'm dreadfully sorry) told me how to fix it. So to speak.

It was our first time, our very first time.  
  
I'd been lusting after my master for what seemed like aeons, you know how teenage human males are. I mean, can you blame me? You've seen him, the man is gorgeous -- six foot four of solid muscle. That hair. That voice. Those eyes. Those _hands_. I think I've probably had two dozen wet dreams featuring his hands alone. But I'd always thought of him as unobtainable -- like so many do.  
  
Not, of course, that the Jedi are celibate. That's a common misconception, you know, and to be honest, I have no idea where it came from. While we aren't exactly promiscuous, we do enjoy the, uh, 'baser' side of life, although we are discreet. We have to be. Perhaps that's where the rumor comes from, actually ... if it got out into the general population exactly what the Force enables us to accomplish at times ...  
  
Where was I?  
  
Oh, yes, our first time. I was nervous -- no, it wasn't _my_ first time, but like I told you earlier, I'd been wanting the man for just years. I wanted to make it perfect. I wanted it to _be_ perfect. But, of course, first times never are. Which is why they make such wonderful memories. Well, wonderful or awful. Or both.  
  
We had spoken about my wanting, finally, and to my wonder and amazement, I found that he actually returned my fervor. He wanted me! Ah, how it filled my mind -- and my body, I'll be honest -- with such joy. And when he kissed me, so delicately, so tenderly, I bid fair to melt into my boots. His taste was everything I'd always wanted, and his hands running down my back and holding me tightly -- well, let's just say, I was very glad I was still young. No, I don't think I need to go into more description, thank you.  
  
You see, he's much older than me. Nearly twice my age. Now, that doesn't mean much, you would think -- he's barely into middle age, and normally, would have a life expectancy well into triple digits. But we Jedi, well, we don't have a normal life expectancy, exactly. It comes with the territory, so to speak, you understand?  
  
But he's always on about how hard it is to keep up with a young man like me, how his 'advanced years' mean that he's always achy and how it's getting harder and harder to continuously come out on top in our sparring. Well, I certainly wanted it hard, and as for him being on top, that would suit me. But I definitely wanted him sore and achy in some places too. Oh, yes, I had plans for Master Jinn, and having waited as long as I had, well, I wasn't much willing to wait any more, understandably.  
  
Our talk and discovery of mutual admiration led to us to snuggling on our sofa. Now, don't get me wrong, I love cuddling, especially with Master Jinn. He's so ... big. And warm. And cuddling, of course, sometimes leads to other things that are even more fun to do. This is something I've discovered since becoming my master's lover. He's terrific at foreplay. In fact, he can drag things out until I'm just about ready to scream from want, and then he teases some more. He can keep me on the edge for hours, until I'm babbling in tongues and hard enough to drill into diamonds. I never knew just how good waiting could be.  
  
So, back to our first night. We cuddled, and we talked some more, and we necked. He's a wonderful kisser too, is my master. You'll just have to take my word for that, for I wouldn't want you to go trying to find out. Yes, I'm a bit possessive. But, as I've said, can you blame me?  
  
Before long, we were down to our underwear, and I know I was about to rip the seams out of mine. He wasn't in much better shape, actually. Just as I was about to come from his wonderful kissing, he pulled gently away, and gave me this look -- it was half sad, half horny, half wondrous and yes I know that's three halves -- and touched my cheek, so tenderly.  
  
"Obi-Wan," he said. Ah, that voice.  
  
I shivered as he said my name and tried to force myself to pay attention. He apparently had something important to say. "Yes, Mas ... Qui-Gon?" I said, and what a turn-on it was to see his expression at my using his name.  
  
"My Obi-Wan," he said again. "You'll never know exactly how long I've waited for just this moment," he rumbled. I'm telling you, I could almost come just from him reciting the 'net directory for lower Coruscant. "You've made this old man into the happiest being in the galaxy."  
  
Didn't I tell you how he goes on about his age? "Not possible, master," I told him. "Because I'm the happiest." Yeah, so what if it was sappy?  
  
He laughed at that, and hugged me hard. His erection ground into mine, and I'm afraid I moaned. It had been, after all, a couple of hours worth of necking, and I was barely out of my teens. I needed him, and needed him _badly_. Any way I could have him -- there on the couch, on the floor, whatever.  
  
I must have telegraphed that to him, somehow -- perhaps it was my frantic thrusting into him and my continuous moaning -- for he almost had to forcibly put me away from him. Which was _not_ what I wanted at the moment.  
  
"Wait, my love. Wait." Wait?! I didn't want to wait! I wanted him _now_! "There are things we need to discuss, Obi-Wan. Things ... things I need to tell you."  
  
His expression was serious enough that it caught me. Things? What things? "What kind of things, Master?" I asked him, and he looked away from me.  
  
Oh, dear. This wasn't good, I instinctively knew it. Perhaps he'd taken a vow of chastity? It wasn't unheard of, although it would be a damn shame for someone who looked as hot as he did, and I would do my level best to make him break it. Or -- perhaps he had some awful disease? From where it was burning a hole in my leg, I knew his cock was at least average size -- if a bit on the large end, like most of him was. So it wasn't that he was under-endowed, or that he was hung like something out of a virgin's nightmare.  
  
He was giving me that Earnest Stare and my heart stuttered. My cock, of course, never even noticed -- it was too busy trying to find a place to land. "There are things that I have to tell you about myself, Obi-Wan. And there are things you have to tell me about yourself. Because I don't want this to be a one-night stand. This is ... this is forever, my very own. If you'll have me."  
  
If I'd have him! Hell, yes, I'd have him -- on the couch, on the floor, in bed, up against the wall, hanging from the chandelier in the great hall ... Oh, wait. He wasn't talking about _that_. He was talking about ... commitment.  
  
Let me tell you, I had to do some real thinking. Was I ready to commit myself to him? Not have another partner except him? Stay with him, do the until death do we part bit? And, we're Jedi -- we don't even part in death, it goes on and on, ad infinitum. Could I stay with him into the Force, even?  
  
Yes, I had to do some hard thinking. I took about three seconds before I launched myself across the tiny gap between us, latching on to his neck with my mouth and sucking hard. He caught me -- of course, he _always_ catches me -- and made this combination laugh and groan sound that just about drove me crazy. I think I was muttering something about yes, yes, of course I would and although I'm not sure I was coherent, he got the gist of my meaning.  
  
But then, he was pushing me away again! This was getting old. "It's how I feel too, Obi-Wan," he said seriously. It was all I could do to refrain from rolling my eyes -- all right, all right, whatever -- can't we get to the fucking now before I died of blue balls? "You're not my first, but I want you to be my last." Well, duh. He wasn't _my_ first either, not by a long shot. But I plastered my best Attendant Padawan look on my face, nodded, and started to gently tweak his nipples -- first one, then the other.  
  
At least this time, he didn't push me away and had the good sense to make a decent -- or indecent -- proposal. "Let's move this to my -- our -- bed, shall we?" he murmured, in That Voice again. Oh, yes. It was becoming clear to me that after this, I would always have to wear an athletic cup while sparring with him because one correction of that voice would have me coming in my sweats.  
  
His bed was where I'd always wanted to be, in all my fondest dreams. Acres of soft bedding, all of it smelling just like him. I took a running jump and landed in the middle, sliding out of the remainder of my clothing as I did so. I'm pretty sure I bounced. Then, I held my arms out for my beloved master to join me ... but all he did was stand at the end of the bed and stare at me. Of course, it was a pretty hot and lustful stare, but still. I wanted him on the bed with me. That instant. Preferably without the shorts that were already showing quite a wide damp spot for him not having come yet. That actually gave me pause for a moment, because, while he was still quite obviously hard, there was a large wet spot there. Could it be pre-come?  
  
I pushed it out of my mind, which wasn't too hard to do. "Maaaaaster ..." I drawled, giving him the best come-hither look I could manage. I thought it was pretty good, myself, although it had never been quite so important in the past.  
  
Well, he didn't remove the shorts, but he did begin to crawl towards me. I felt like I was watching a big, graceful jungle cat hunting its prey -- and I was the prey! He just sends shivers down my spine and up my cock when he looks at me like that, and you'll have to take my word for that as well. He won't be looking at anyone else like that any time soon, I can guarantee it.  
  
Before long, he was poised above me, and we were kissing. I wasn't very happy about it, though, even though he was back to those really hot, utterly indecent kisses that had almost made me come on the couch. That was the only place we were touching! I wanted all of him -- all six foot four of hot muscle, skin and hair -- draped all over me, right at that instant! I think I made some kind of noise to that effect too, though he just chuckled evilly and that's when I should have known --  
  
I was in trouble. Big trouble.  
  
"Obi-Wan, my impatient one," he murmured, in between little nibbles on my neck, "you aren't a virgin, are you?"  
  
"N-no," I said, or maybe gasped, I don't really remember clearly.  
  
"Good," he purred, and I distinctly remember I shivered. "What do you do, my sweet padawan?"  
  
"Anything," I gasped, writhing. "Everything." And bloody well now, too, I remember thinking.  
  
"Everything?" Once again he pulled away from me -- and I do remember thinking that if he did it one more time I was going to try to tackle him -- and looked down at me, raising his eyebrow. "Do you do this?"  
  
His glorious mouth finally moved off my neck and down my chest to kiss and suck at my nipples. His long legs were on either side of mine, pinning me down most unfairly. But aside from his legs, his hands and his mouth, we _weren't touching_ and that was purely unacceptable. But no matter how I squirmed and begged, he wouldn't go where I wanted him to.  
  
Of course, he didn't torment me for long ... it just _felt_ like it. When he finally got to my cock, it took him swallowing me whole just once for me to explode. I stayed hard too, I mean, I _was_ just out of my teens after all, and he had been teasing me for what felt like forever.  
  
I'm not under-endowed either -- and no, you'll have to take my word for it -- but he swallowed me and my offering as though I were one of those children's lollypops, obviously hungry for and wanting more. But I wanted to taste him. I wanted to get a little of my own back and make _him_ beg and plead!  
  
I waited until I could move again, then without warning flipped us over so that I was on top. He looked surprised for a moment, then pleased at my temerity. I'm sure I smirked for a moment before beginning my own explorations, and, may I add, they were thorough. I was not about to let him be the only one in control in our relationship, oh no! Of course, given that there would _be_ a relationship, and of course there is now. But I digress.  
  
By the time I got to his groin, he was wriggling most satisfactorily, and making almost as many noises as I had been. I was thwarted for a moment by the fact that he still had his shorts on -- I gave him an instant to reply when I asked him if he were attached to those shorts before ripping them off. But in doing so, I again noticed ... the front of the shorts was wet. Extremely wet ... almost as if he had come. When I got to the treasure beneath, I discovered why.  
  
Yes, my master is big -- everywhere. His erect cock is large and his balls are _enormous._ And his cock -- that lovely, hard phallus -- was leaking. Drooling onto his stomach. I'd never seen the like before. I assumed at the time it was pre-come, but Force, I'd never seen that much. A few drops here and there was all I could manage ... and all any of my other lovers seemed to manage. But here was my master with what amounted to a leaky faucet.  
  
I was enchanted.  
  
All that slippery stuff made it so easy for me to fist him, and made it much easier for my lips to slip down him when I began to fellate him. It would, I realized, also mean we could save a lot of credit -- I pulled back and watched more of it drool out -- a _lot_ of credit on lube. Master seemed to have that well under control. As I slipped my lips down his length, the trickle increased quite a bit, and the taste -- well, it didn't taste like come. Not exactly. I like the taste of come -- I do! Don't look at me like that! -- and I'd never tasted enough pre-come before to determine just exactly _what_ it tasted like, but it wasn't come. It was ... well, it's sweeter. And muskier. And ... and ... oh, to hell with it, I liked it, all right?  
  
So, I began to suck him. I pride myself on my technique in this area, and meant to show him just why I could. He gasped most gratifyingly and tried to pump his hips, but I had the upper hand, as it were, and held him down. Then, he tried to stop me -- again! -- saying something that was quite incoherent. At the time, I couldn't have cared less, I was busy, dammit! Whatever he needed to tell me would just have to wait.  
  
What he had been trying to tell me, apparently, had to do with his rather peculiar plumbing. I discovered how peculiar when he arched and shouted and began to come into my mouth. Ahhh ... the payoff. My favorite part of giving head, honest.  
  
I swallowed his first load and suckled for more, which I got. Then there was another. And another. I began to choke, I'm afraid, and reflexively opened my mouth. His come was still ... er ... coming. His back was arched, his face was a blissed-out mask, and his cock was shooting and shooting and shooting ... it dribbled down his crack and got onto the bed, squirted up over his chest into his face -- which was still in the rictus of orgasm -- and got into his beard, dripped down his face and his sides, and was _still pouring out_ ... Floods of creamy, white essence -- that smelled really, really good too -- and long strings of thick, pearly semen flooding everywhere, covering his chest and groin and dripping onto the bedspread and good Force, that one almost made it to the _ceiling_ ...  
  
Sitting back on my heels, I watched what was happening with a kind of terrified awe. Imagine if that -- thing -- had been in my arse! I'd never need another enema -- we'd never have to use barriers, because everything would be washed out on the first go. And what if he could do more than once a night -- could someone even accomplish that? Would he need to take in fluids to replenish himself? Maybe we could set up an IV so that we wouldn't have to stop ...  
  
One thing was certain ... we were definitely going to have to have a talk on who would be the bottom in this relationship. Suddenly, I was overcome with a picture of him riding me -- a not unpleasant idea, to be sure -- and shooting all over me ... then me drowning in an ocean of jism, trying desperately to drink it down while he rode on, oblivious.  
  
And still, he kept coming. The bed was getting damp, and I was getting hard again. I remember watching all that spunk pouring out and wondering what it would be like to have a ten minute orgasm ...  
  


* * *

  
"Padawan?" Qui-Gon rasped.  
  
"Yes, Master?" I whispered back ... a whisper being about the only thing I could accomplish at the moment, due to the throbbing, agonizing ache which was overcoming my body. Whatever had been in that blue shit last night could have been used for paint thinner. I can usually purge alcohol from my body, but this stuff ...  
  
"I'm sorry I passed out on you last night," Qui-Gon said. From the careful way he was moving and the winces on his face, I could tell he was feeling at least as delicate as I was. "I knew it was a mistake to allow old Prince Whatshisbucket--"  
  
"Prince Waatsaahbistui," I corrected automatically, and winced again.  
  
"Whatever," Qui-Gon said. "Celebration drink my ass. He must have a hollow leg."  
  
"A hollow head," I murmured.  
  
"What happened after I passed out?" Qui-Gon asked a moment later. We were waiting for Prince Waatsaahbistui -- dammit, now I was beginning to call him Whatshisbucket -- to see us off to the space port, since the treaty had been signed successfully the night before, hence our 'celebration.' As far as I was concerned, anything that made me feel this awful could not be considered a celebration.  
  
Dragging my wandering mind back to the present -- Qui-Gon had asked me a question. "Um ... I'm not sure," I hedged. I'd had the most marvelous wet dream, I do remember that ... "Why?"  
  
"Because I've been getting the strangest looks from everyone in the palace this morning," Qui-Gon replied, rubbing his forehead gently. "Did you ..."  
  
But whatever Qui-Gon was going to say was cut off by the Prince's arrival. I was slightly mollified to see that he was looking almost as bad as we were feeling, but the idiot had proposed the drinking in the first place, so it served him right.  
  
He had some boring speech prepared -- one that was mercifully short -- then he bowed (gingerly), we bowed (gingerly) and we were able, at last, to get on the transport to the spaceport.  
  
As Qui-Gon passed him, however, the prince laid one hand on my master's shoulder. With an awestruck and somewhat yearning expression, he said, "It was a pleasure, Master Jedi. You certainly do have spunk."  
  
That rang a bell in the back of my head, but I tried to put it out of my thoughts. Hangovers didn't last forever, and we'd probably have a single bed on the way back.  
  
And I was terribly thirsty.


End file.
